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The Dark Survivor by The MarkReaper

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Chapter 1: Alive!

     Antlers.

     Max had to laugh at the young half-vampire’s stupidity. It was almost painful; for the second time that night he thanked the gods that Michael was not a full vampire. He had looked promising in the past, but now he really saw what brains the young man lacked. And it was pitiful, as well was his blind, mortal love for the girl, Star.

     Max was wary of their frantic presence, six against one not counting the young boy which Star clutched to her protectively, but he knew they would make no move to harm him...yet. The shock of his newly revealed identity was still sinking in. Lucy had not realized his secret yet; she still was trying to wheedle an explanation out of her sons and those meddling Frog brothers.

     He reached down to where his vampire son David lay, his brows creased slightly in concern, and ran a calm hand along the cold, pallid cheek. Gently, he turned David’s head to one side; the eyes were closed in a peaceful calm, an acceptance of death, his face untroubled as if sleeping. A small trickle of blood, dark and perfect, seeped from between the pale, silky lips.

     He could live, if they touched him no more. He could hang on and become strong again, an ageless young man, his face still radiating the beautiful cherubic innocence of his youth, which in reality had long since passed. But Max himself would not be the one to nurse his young charge back to health; for he could already feel deep in his hungry gut his own impending doom.

     They killed our family, he thought to himself. And they shall kill me, somehow. I will fight it, but I will not win.

     He glanced down at David. And you, my immortal son; what is to become of you?

     His eyes cast upward again and he saw in their eyes a sort of troubled confusion as to the tenderness of which he ran his fingers over his (seemingly) deceased subsidiary, perhaps a glimmer of horrible, almost paternal love shining from within his vampire eyes. They all shifted nervously, and taking advantage of the moment, Max prepared himself to attack.


     The pain grew greater as David slowly became aware of it. He stirred ever so slightly but found that he could not open his eyes. The sounds of combat in the little room fell upon his ears unheard and unsensed. He was alone in the darkness of his own mind, and it was only then did he come to the agonizing realization: all of his dark family was dead. He remembered hearing their dying shrieks, one and the same, their pain melding with his. Every time one of them died, so did a part of himself. But his anger, his desire to destroy Michael, had led him into a trap. His kin were slaughtered mercilessly as he battled the half-human and now here he lay, utterly helpless, fearing that his opponent’s sheer determination and hatred alone had done the damage that would kill him soon. After all, a vampire could kill another vampire as easily as a human could kill another human, but David had a chance. Michael was not full vampire; his powers were not strong enough to kill his adversary instantly, thus leaving him with a chance of survival. But that determination, that hatred...

     David was a fighter; his powers were at their apex. He had always fought like a demon and clung just as tenaciously to life; the fierce fire within refusing stubbornly to let him lay down and die, the thought of which stung him insultingly and turned his eyes red with rage. He was fighting, but he began to doubt, in the back shadows of his mind, the prowess of his own powers, which were weakening as he succumbed to his pain.

     The agony of his defeat stung him also... just as bad as the wounds themselves, which were red-hot daggers ripping apart his chest. Death was creeping thinly into the borders of his senses.

     Presently, he became able to hear again; all was silence in the decimated room. He smelled the overwhelming stench of dust and water, life and death. A profound emptiness inside him told that Max, his leader, was dead. This was no shock, but David felt that much more alone. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and saw that the room was empty. The spires lodged deep in his chest stood up like black daggers; he reached up and feebly tried to tug them from his chest. They stayed fast, and new pain screamed around the wounds. Desperately he curled his hands close at their bases, noting that his right hand was still charred and blistered from the sunlight, and gave a sharp tug, manipulating his minimal strength. Mercifully, they hesitated; them came free with a sickening squelch. He grimaced and threw them to the floor, feeling warm blood streaming down his sides and from his mouth. Death bubbled up in his throat; blood dripped from his lips. He bit them to fight the pain, which left him breathless, and felt his fangs piercing flesh. A distressed, singing growl gurgled in his throat.

     He exerted the last of his strength and at last heaved himself from the table, biting back a tormented groan. Shakily he stood and made his way through the rubble, half walking and half crawling, casting his eyes to the fireplace as he passed, where he could smell death and ashes, and the faint, subdued scent of Max. He swallowed and resumed soundlessly picking his way through the debris, and made his way out the gaping hole in the wall, edging around the steaming car.

     He smiled as the night breathed vital strength and energy into him; he levitated suddenly and, pushing his temporary strength as far as it would allow him to, flew swiftly through the air.

     The wind caressed his face as he soared close to the ground, hugging the concealing landscape. Over the mountains in the east David saw the faint light of dawn, and hurriedly he located his destination. He reached the mouth of the cave and fell to the ground, exhausted; crawling deep inside the cavern and feeling blessed sleep begin to settle over his weary limbs. David fell asleep upon the stone floor as the rays of the rising sun kissed the town of Santa Carla.

     He was alive.


     David stayed in the cave for more than a month, nursing himself back to health and feeding his seething fury, which gnawed at his stomach like a deep hunger. He was alone, absorbed in his grief over his Lost Boys, now truly lost to him, and as he sat thinking about this he began to toy with the idea of bringing someone new to the Lost Cave...Some totally unsuspecting. Yes...this was a good plan.

     And so, set with a new determination, he set out one night to visit the boardwalk.

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